Chương 48: Country Bumpkin
"Right, back to the cave to grab my stuff, and then it's straight to the assembly hall."
Li Wei weaves through the bustling plaza crowd, his figure gradually disappearing into the throng as he makes his way toward the mountain path.
Li Wei's feet press into the mountain path, soil and rocks shifting underfoot with each measured step. The cave looms ahead, its entrance a silent welcome, enveloping him in a hush far removed from the distant hum of the sect's life below.
Li Wei, selecting a rock with a smooth surface, begins to etch his message for Mei Lin:
"Mei Lin, urgent sect duties call me away. I entrust you with my cave's care. Left you ten bone pills for maintenance. Ensure no one enters. – Li Wei"
His characters are clear and deliberate, each stroke of his finger leaving a lasting mark on the stone. With a final inspection of the message, he places the rock where it can easily be seen.
Kneeling beside the stone note, Li Wei retrieves ten pills from his robe, carefully placing them on the ground.
This action by Li Wei is a last-ditch measure, a step taken to safeguard the remnants of his presence in the cave. He hopes that no one will stumble upon his cave and discover the evidence of his past kills, a secret he needs to keep hidden. It's a gamble that he deems necessary in his current predicament.
Li Wei sets out towards the Assembly Hall, on the plaza where the sect assessment occurred, with his sack in tow.
His silhouette descends the mountain path, each step deliberate, blending into the rugged landscape as he moves away from his cave.
Reaching the mountain base, Li Wei entered the bustling plaza where the sect assessment had occurred. The space is alive with activity: vendors calling out their wares, people darting between stalls, the clatter of carts and the murmur of countless conversations. The ground is paved with cobblestones, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet. Sunlight filters through the canopy of merchant awnings, casting patterns of light and shadow on the ground.
Li Wei crosses the plaza, his presence drawing minimal attention. He navigates through the crowd easily born of familiarity, moving towards the Assembly hall.
The Assembly hall stands imposingly at the plaza's edge. Its architecture is grand, with high pillars and a broad entrance. The doors are open, revealing an interior that is vast and ornate. Inside, the ceiling soars high, supported by pillars carved with intricate designs. Banners hang from the walls, depicting symbols of the sect's power and prestige.
Li Wei approaches the clerk at the front, a man perched behind a high desk cluttered with scrolls and ink pots. "Li Wei, 8th level Qi cultivator," he announces, presenting a coin. "I've been assigned to the tax collection in the mortal kingdoms." In a fluid motion, Li Wei extends his hand, offering the intricately carved coin to the clerk.
The clerk, overwhelmed by the bustling noise of the hall, flinches at Li Wei's words. "Ok, ok, I get it," he says, covering his ears as if Li Wei's voice were far too loud. Around them, the hall teems with people: a young disciple arguing fervently with another, a group of visitors gazing around in awe, and a harried messenger darting through with a scroll clutched tightly.
The clerk, regaining composure, leads Li Wei to a group of four, distinct in their demeanour and attire. He gestures lazily towards them, a brief introduction, before leaving, his steps slow.
A proud male disciple stands tall, his gaze sweeping over those gathered with an air of superiority. Beside him, a haughty female disciple observes the scene, her chin tilted upward, showing disdain. Both are accompanied by individuals in rags, their dishevelled appearances starkly contrasting with the disciples' well-kept forms.
Being mindful of the hierarchies and uncertainties within the sect, Li Wei takes the initiative to introduce himself first, showing respect and caution. "I am Li Wei, 8th level Qi cultivation," he says, his voice measured and his demeanour calm. He gives a slight nod, a gesture of respect, aware that any of these disciples might be of higher rank or skill.
The proud male disciple, standing tall with a gaze that suggests superiority and scrutiny, responds next. "I am Dao Feng," he states authoritatively, his voice carrying undisguised pride. "Also 8th level Qi cultivation." His posture remains erect, exuding confidence and a sense of command.
Observing the scene with a discernible air of disdain, the haughty female disciple introduces herself. "And I am Lin Yue," she says, her chin still tilted upward, her eyes sweeping over Li Wei and the others. Her voice is cool, laced with a hint of arrogance. "I, too, am at the 8th level."
The servants accompanying Dao Feng and Lin Yue stand silently in the background, their presence noticeable but unobtrusive.
The proud disciple eyes Li Wei, his expression questioning. "Why didn't you bring your servant? We have to travel far," he inquires, his tone edged with impatience.
Li Wei meets his gaze evenly. "I haven't had the chance to get one yet," he responds, his voice calm.
Lin Yue scoffs, her voice laced with condescension. "Hmph, were you a country bumpkin or something?"
The male disciple interjects, "Forget it, we have to stop off to get horses anyway. You can grab a villager or something."
Dao Feng's voice cuts through the air, firm and clear. "Come, let's go." He turns, stepping forward with purpose.
Li Wei's gaze lingers on the hall's architecture, noting the interplay of shadow and light across the high ceilings and the intricate carvings that adorn the walls, telling tales of the sect's history.
Scenes of epic battles dominate the carvings, portraying the sect's conflicts with righteous sects. The figures are shown wielding dark energies and commanding fearsome creatures, overwhelming their adversaries. The carvings spare no detail in showing the sect's dominance, with enemy cultivators depicted in various states of defeat and despair.
Dao Feng leads, his presence commanding and assured. Lin Yue walks beside him, her demeanour composed. Their two servants follow, attentive to their masters' needs, their movements efficient and unobtrusive. Li Wei brings up the rear, observing the dynamics within the group and the world around them.
Exiting the assembly hall, the bustling atmosphere of the sect's daily life envelops them. The hall, echoing with the voices of numerous disciples and the subtle shuffling of feet, fades away as they step into the open expanse of the sect.
As they descend the mountain, the lively markets of the sect unfold around them. Stalls are adorned with various items – vibrant herbs that seem to hold hidden properties, talismans crafted with meticulous detail, each shimmering with an aura of mystery. The vendors, animated and persuasive, weave a symphony of salesmanship, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic dance of commerce.
The scents of exotic spices permeate the air, each aroma a story of distant lands and ancient secrets. The murmur of negotiations and exchanges adds to the vibrant tapestry of sounds, creating a lively backdrop to their journey.
The sect's towering and solemn structures stand guard over the bustling activity. With their imposing architecture, these edifices are a stark reminder of the sect's enduring strength and legacy.
Amidst this flurry of activity, the group moves as a cohesive unit. With their composed and authoritative air, Dao Feng and Lin Yue draw respectful glances from Qi Cultivators passing by. With their heads slightly bowed, the servants remain alert, seamlessly navigating through the crowd. Li Wei, his senses attuned to both the group and the environment, follows with keen observation, taking in the multifaceted life of the sect.
They journey through the heart of the sect's daily bustle, each step taking them closer to the next phase of their mission, set against the vibrant and ever-changing backdrop of the Bone Ash Sect.
Dao Feng steps forward confidently, leading the group. Lin Yue walks alongside him, her gaze sweeping the surroundings calmly. The two servants, carrying large packs, follow closely, their eyes darting around, taking in every detail of their tread path. Li Wei watches at the back of the group, his mind alert.
They pass through the last of the sect's structures, the buildings becoming less frequent. These structures, made of stone and wood, sit firmly on the mountain's terrain. While simpler than those at the sect's heart, their designs still carry the unmistakable mark of the Bone Ash Sect's aesthetics – functional, sturdy, and unadorned. The windows of these buildings are few, designed more for utility than for view, and the doors are solid.
As they move beyond these outlying structures, the landscape shifts. The path narrows, the paving stones giving way to a dirt track that weaves through the natural landscape. The trees of the mountain rise up around them, tall and imposing. Their leaves form a dense canopy overhead, filtering the sunlight into a muted, dappled pattern on the ground. The air grows fresher, filled with pine and earth, contrasting the incense and spice-laden atmosphere of the sect's markets.
The mountain's terrain challenges them with its natural irregularities. The path twists and turns, following the contours of the landscape. Roots from the ancient trees snake across the trail, while rocks and stones jut out, making the way uneven. The sounds of the sect fade into the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves, the occasional crack of a branch underfoot, and the distant call of a bird.
Dao Feng navigates the path, his steps sure and measured. Lin Yue mirrors his confidence, her eyes scanning the horizon, taking in the vast expanse of wilderness. The servants adjust their pace, carefully balancing their loads, their eyes on the ground, ensuring safe passage for their masters.
Li Wei, taking in the surroundings, feels the isolation of the mountain. Here, the sect's influence wanes, and nature asserts itself. The path, bordered by thick underbrush, shows signs of infrequent travel. Moss clings to the rocks at the trail's edge, and small animals scurry through the undergrowth, their presence fleeting and barely noticeable.
The mountain gradient becomes steeper, the path inclining upwards, demanding more effort with each step. The group's pace slows, and their breathing becomes more laboured as they ascend. The vastness of the mountain envelopes them, the enormity of their surroundings a silent reminder of their smallness in the face of nature's grandeur.
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